


i thought of you and where you'd gone, and the world spins madly on

by bisexualfpjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Riverparents, missing scene - 401, parentdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/pseuds/bisexualfpjones
Summary: It’s bittersweet, watching the kids look on in childlike wonder at the exploding colors lighting up the world around them, but none of the joy reaching their eyes. Not really. It’s hard to be happy today. Not with such a vital piece of the puzzle missing.Something else is missing, too, Mary notices as she looks around the yard. Someone else should be here.“Jug, where’s your dad?”





	i thought of you and where you'd gone, and the world spins madly on

**Author's Note:**

> full warning i did not edit this at all cuz writing it was draining enough and i really didnt want to sit and reread it. this was more just, catharsis, i guess. 
> 
> fic title from world spins madly on by the weepies

The sky’s awash in purples and blues, greens and reds, as Mary looks on fondly at the kids sitting before her. There’s an undeniable heaviness in the air that’s only enhanced by the boom of the fireworks. The inescapable truth that things will never be the same again. Fred Andrews was only laid to rest this morning, has been _gone_ for days, and nothing has felt real since.

It’s bittersweet, watching the kids look on in childlike wonder at the exploding colors lighting up the world around them, but none of the joy reaching their eyes. Not really. It’s hard to be happy today. Not with such a vital piece of the puzzle missing. 

Something else is missing, too, Mary notices as she looks around the yard. Someone else should be here.

“Jug, where’s your dad?”

Jughead turns his head to look at Mary over his shoulder. “He said he had some errands to run.” His tone implies he doesn’t believe a single word of that.

Mary nods at the younger Jones before he turns around, getting back to the show. 

Mary knows better. Has known FP too long to know it’s not a good sign that he’s off on his own tonight. Isolation had always been one of his strong-suits, and he had a nasty habit of shutting everybody out when things started getting too bleak in that head of his. 

Getting up from her chair, she walks over to her son, leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head and says “I’ll be right back.” Archie gives her a look like he’s about to ask where she’s going, but she just squeezes his shoulder and turns to leave. It’s easier than offering an explanation.

\--

The bottle in his hand is heavy. The sober chip in his pocket even heavier.

He hadn’t really known what his plan was when he walked into that liquor store tonight, but he knew he was on the losing end of whatever internal battle he was going through.

He ended up at the high school, walking around rattling every window and door until something opened. The bottle of whiskey in his hands remains unopened even as he stands in the room he was searching for, the one with their initials carved into the windowsill. His grip on the neck tightens as the fingers of his other hand smooth over the carvings. 

_FA_

He squeezes his eyes shut, letting his fingers freeze over the letters. There’s a lump in his throat he can’t seem to swallow down no matter how hard he tries. The whiskey might help, he thinks, but every time he thinks about opening the bottle there’s a voice in his head telling him not to. A voice that sounds a little too much like Fred’s.

He thinks he’ll be hearing that voice the rest of his life, permanently embedded in his memories. If it’s a blessing or a curse, he hasn’t made up his mind. It’s as comforting as it is painful. Every realization that he’ll never again hear that voice in person just another stab to his heart. He has old voicemails on his phone, has been playing them on repeat since he got the terrible news. He holds on to them like a lifeline, like they’re the only piece of Fred he has left.

With his eyes closed, here in the dark of his high school, he can almost pretend. For a moment he’s 17 again, hiding out in an empty classroom while he waits for his best friend. To talk. To listen. To sneak gentle touches and firm kisses and quiet laughter that they couldn’t elsewhere.

There’s a patter of footsteps somewhere behind him, and he _forgets_. His chest tightens in that old familiar way, his lips twitching up in the faintest hint of a smile as the last few days slip away from him. And _maybe…_

“FP?” Comes a voice that is unmistakably _not_ Fred’s, and everything in FP deflates as he huffs out a hollow, bitter laugh. Reality comes crashing back in like a freight train, and all FP can do is open his eyes and stand frozen while the weight of it drowns him.

“Mary Maiden breaking and entering? Never thought I’d see the day,” FP teases, an attempt at distraction. 

“Not a lot of breaking involved when someone left a window open.”

“Seems like a flimsy excuse for a lawyer.”

“Yeah, well,” Mary sighs, a little showy. “Worse comes to worst I’ve got an in with the sheriff. I should be fine.”

FP turns his head just enough to give Mary his profile and breathes out another laugh, this time a little more genuine. 

“You doin’ okay?” she asks, stepping forward and noticing the moonlight reflecting off the bottle in FP’s hand. She can see it’s untouched. It makes her feel a little better. She doesn’t think she has it in her to take care of a drunk FP tonight, as awful as that maybe sounds.

And FP doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know what she’s really asking. It’s been the same shit since high school. Any time someone asks FP if he’s _okay_ what they really mean is _how many drinks have you had?_

It used to piss him off, but now he knows the only one to be pissed at is himself.

“‘M fine,” he says, finally setting the bottle down on a nearby cabinet. “Just a… momentary lapse in judgement.”

Mary nods her head even though FP can’t see her. It’s more of a reassurance to herself. She hasn’t been around FP enough to see the gradual change he’s made, and he can’t help but feel a swell of pride in her chest for her old friend. It’s not lost on her that this may very well be the first time she’s seen him walk away from a drink, and now of all times… He’s come along way. 

But not everything’s changed. He hasn’t broken free from all his old destructive patterns.

“You don’t have to be alone, you know,” she offers as she moves forward to join his side. Her eyes follow his, knowing already what he’s so focused on. The initials etched permanently into the wood. Fred’s and FP’s. Side by side. Just how she always knew them. She keeps her gaze forward as she slips her hand into FP’s and laces their fingers together, giving his hand a tight, grounding squeeze. 

“I miss him so fucking much, Mare.” FP’s voice comes out so soft Mary can barely hear him, but she still picks up on the waver. Knows if he looks over she’d see the shine of tears on his cheeks. 

“I know,” she replies, voice every bit as shaky. 

“I spent so much time being mad at him. Being so _fucking_ selfish.” The tears are coming more freely now, for the both of them. But there’s an added anger to FP’s voice. Hatred aimed solely at himself. “I never even told him- Did he know? Did he-” 

He chokes on a sob, and Mary turns to throw her arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug. FP’s whole body shakes as he buries his face in her neck, his hands fisting tight into the back of her dress like it’s the only thing keeping him from completely shattering. 

They stay like that for a minute, Mary smoothing his hair and repeating _it’s okay, it’s okay_ softly in his ear until they’ve both managed to calm down enough. 

She eventually pulls away enough to take FP’s face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “FP, listen to me,” she starts, voice stern and demanding attention. “He was so proud of you. Of how far you’ve come. Every time we talked he always made sure to tell me how good you were doing, how happy he was you were on the right track.”

FP smiles, forlorn and wet from crying, but a smile nonetheless. 

“He loved you,” Mary says with conviction. “And he _knew_.”

She keeps his gaze until she’s sure she’s gotten through, that he believes everything she’s just told him. FP nods his head, and she mimics the gesture. He’s okay. They’ll be okay.

FP wipes the tears from his face, groaning into his hands. “I’m sorry. I should be the one comforting you. Not being a fucking mess.” 

Mary can’t help but laugh as she throws her arm around FP’s shoulders and pulls him in to her side. “It’s okay. I kinda prefer it this way. Feels more normal.”

FP smiles, leaning his head down to rest against the top of Mary’s. He feels better now. Not so close to the brink like he was before.

“We’re gonna get through this,” promises Mary. She rubs FP’s back in reassurance. Maybe a little for herself, too. “Archie’s gonna need us. We’re gonna need _each other_. Don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t.” He doesn’t know if he can trust himself to keep that promise, but he wants to. He wants to be the new and improved FP. The one that Fred was so proud of. Doesn’t want to let him down.

Mary places a kiss to FP’s temple and squeezes his hand. “Come on. The kids are waiting for us.” She makes to leave, but FP stays frozen in place.

“Can I just, uh, have a minute?”

Mary looks to the windowsill and back to her friend, nodding her head in understanding. “I’ll just be outside.”

He waits until he’s surrounded by silence, the clacking of Mary’s footsteps no longer echoing down the halls. He takes a deep breath, and even though he’s alone, he can’t help but feel silly for what he’s about to do. A touch of embarrassment for speaking out loud in an empty room. But maybe Fred will hear him better this way. Wherever he is. 

“There’s a lot of things I never got to say to you,” he starts. He feels like his whole body is shaking. “But, I think the most important one is: thank you.” He pauses, clears his throat to steady himself. “You saved my life more times than I can count. Gave me more chances than I know I deserved. You never gave up on me. And I- I wish I could’ve saved you, too.”

His voice breaks, and he can feel the fresh tears falling down his cheeks once more. He sniffles into the back of his hand and takes another deep breath before continuing on. “I’m gonna do right by you. I want to be the guy you thought I could be. And I’m gonna look after Archie and Mary, just like you looked after Gladys and the kids for me.”

He stands there for a minute biting the inside of his cheek trying to get himself calm. It helps, if only a little. The tears are starting to slow down as he wipes his face clean. 

When he can finally see clearly again he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his switchblade, flicking it open. He looks at his initials next to Fred’s, still visible, but faded with time. He carves over them, making sure they’re pronounced, adding a small plus sign in the middle like he was too afraid to do when they were younger. His heart aches thinking about it. He would’ve carved their initials all over town if he could. If he had a time machine he would. He would do a lot of things.

He blows the dust and splinters away when he’s done, cleaning off the surface and admiring his work, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“I’m not gonna say goodbye. Because you’re not gone. I will carry you with me always.” He brings two fingers up to his lips before placing them down over Fred’s initials, holding them there. “See you later, Freddie.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos much appreciated


End file.
